Life After Theft
Page 30

I shrugged in a faux-modest way. Just don’t ask me what you were talking about.
“Other guys I dated wanted to talk about their games and their latest session in the weight room and . . . well, about themselves, pretty much all the time.”
“That’s the advantage of dating a nerd,” I said. “Guys are pretty much all the same. We like to talk about how awesome we are and all the coolest stuff we’ve ever done. For jocks it’s their big goal in football—”
“Touchdown,” Sera corrected with a grin.
See, I’m funny, I thought, laughing inwardly at my little joke. “Yeah, that,” I said. “But the coolest thing I’ve ever done is gone on a date with the . . .” What did she call it? “Junior co-captain of the cheerleading squad.” Her widening smile told me I’d gotten her title right.
And then, because I was feeling both confident and bold, I reached down for her hand, curling my fingers around hers. I held my breath, wondering if she would pull away.
She didn’t. In fact, she leaned closer. My heart was racing when she tilted her head toward mine and kissed me.
This was no dark parking-lot kiss. This was a public, in-school, in-front-of-her-classmates kiss. A gossip-starting, relationship-cementing kiss.
I’m telling you, a good relationship is all about finding common ground.
And then making out on it.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when the knuckles rapped on the lockers right next to my ear. “Break it up, Miss Hewitt,” Mr. Hennigan said, not slowing as he strode by.
Sera’s cheeks flushed a little, but I wasn’t even fazed.
I scored another quick kiss as I dropped Sera off at her history class. As far as I was concerned, this was the green light for our relationship to get going full speed ahead. The possibilities were endless. I dropped into my seat and started planning my weekends.
Long movies in a dark theater, long drives in a dark car, long . . . talks . . . in dark parks.
I was sensing an emerging theme.
“Okay, I got ’em,” Kimberlee said, startling me from my daydream.
I just stared stupidly up at her, not yet out of my lust-induced haze.
“Would you get out your pencil?” she yelled. “I can’t remember all these numbers forever!”
Locker combos—right. Hello, reality.
Fifteen
“WE CAN’T DO THIS MUCH LONGER,” I hissed to Kimberlee as we left the classroom and speed-walked down the hall. “My teachers are all going to think I have some kind of bladder infection or something.”
“I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas,” she said, her voice both strained and desperate. I was reminded how few options she had.
“I’ll work on it,” I said as I reached the first locker. “Is this Khail’s?” I’d been carrying around Khail’s bag since Tuesday. But for three days in a row Kimberlee refused to get the combo for reasons I couldn’t even begin to guess at. Only after I threatened to stop returning stuff did she finally bring me his numbers. I felt like I owed it to Sera as her shiny new boyfriend to get her brother’s stuff back to him.
“Yes, I promise. Just do it and let’s move on.”
“Keep watch.”
She walked several feet away and peered down the hallway.
Unfortunately, people can come from both directions. I didn’t even hear Khail’s footsteps until he’d grabbed the front of my shirt and slammed me against the lockers. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I was too terrified to make a sound.
With his iron fists still holding me prisoner, Khail took two steps toward the bathroom door and used me to push it open.
Next I got slammed up against the tiled bathroom walls. Much more painful than lockers, but thankfully also more private.
Kimberlee wandered in sheepishly and stood in the corner, watching.
“Why were you breaking into my locker?” Khail asked.
His voice was incredibly calm—scary calm. I still couldn’t speak, but I managed to gather enough wits to hold up my hand, still clutching the bag containing his belongings.
Khail’s eyes darted to the bag, and widened. He loosened his grip. A little.
With one hand still on my collar, he reached out and snatched the bag from me. After looking at it for a minute he released me entirely. “You stay right there,” he said, jabbing one sausage-sized finger against my chest.
Yes, sir!
He opened the bag and pulled out a worn black Yankees hat. “No way,” he said, almost too quietly to hear. As he was staring at the hat, a pair of red silk boxers fell out and onto the floor. He eyed them for just a second before recognition dawned on his face and his hand darted out to grab them and shove them in his pocket.
Then he saw the sticker on the bag.
His eyes narrowed and in about half a second his hand was back at my throat. “Tell me what you think you know.”
Know? “I don’t know anything!”
“Then why did you take these?”
“I didn’t steal them. I’m just giving stuff back.”
He paused for a second. “Did you give Sera her skirt and shoes?”
“Yes.” Honesty seemed like the best policy at the moment, even though Kimberlee was yelling, “Deny! Deny!” at the top of her lungs.
“Where did you get them?”
“I just found them,” I said in a much higher voice than I usually use as his grip tightened around my neck. I’d always felt that my six-foot-two height gave me an advantage over bullies. Apparently it made no difference to this five-foot-eight mass of muscles.